Nothing Like Neverland
by Shade Asylum
Summary: She'd let me join her lost boys, even if New York was nothing like the Neverland of storybooks.


**Warnings: I don't own Glee or any of the characters or any of the songs I may use. This will include lesbian sex, maybe some hetero but it's not likely. Possibly Finn bashing.**

Fifteen. That's jow old I was when she found me, which was something I hadn't even managed to do. I was sitting alone at a park I had no business being at while the sun began to set. The phone in my pocket remained lifeless, although I might not have answered even if I'd left it on. I didn't want to hearthe worry of the confused woman on the other end; I should have felt bad but I just couldn't bring myself to, even as the patrons of the park began to dwindle in number. It wasn't until the lamps came on, emmitinga haunting glow overthe bench I'd claimed and a small radius aroundit that I even began worrying about being there alone. That's about when she made her appearance.

She woudn't have even bothered to stop for me if it hadn't been for the blonde boy at her side. They were walking silently past, long steps carrying them quickly along the otherwise deserted path. They could have passed me easily but he stopped her. His eyes met mine while he urged her not to leave, when he was certain she wouldn't he came up to me.

"Hey kid, are you alright?"

I looked up to him cautiously, "Yes, I'm fine."

"I told you," the girl all but snapped at him.

He ignored her, "You probably shouldn't stick around here too long, the park fills with some pretty shady characters at night."

I looked between the two of them. He looked innocent enough with his messy blonde hair and his endearing smile but she could have easily passed for one of the shady people he spoke of; messy dark waves fell over her black leather clad shoulders making her blend in with the abyss just beyond her.

He must have caught onto my thoughts because he chuckled and looked back, "She's really nicer than she seems."

She rolled her eyes.

"Do you need help getting home?" he asked as he sat on the bench next to me.

Honestly, I did. I'd set out with the goal of getting away from the woman who was supposed to fill a recenty emptied vid in my life, and I'd gotten lost in the process, "I suppose I do."

He flashed that warm smile again before nodding.

"Sam, we don't have time for-" the raven-haired girl began.

"For what San? To help her out?" He grew a bit more serious as theyheld eachothers gaze.

I looked between them uncertainly, "I'm certain I could find my own way home if it's-

"Shut up," she snapped before slipping a hand into her pocket and pulling something out. When she smacked it against his chest I saw that it was a roll of money, "No take out. Buy real food and nothing perishable unless you can convince me it isn't a waste."

He nodded before looking to me uncertainly and opening his mouth to say something but she cut him off, "Where exactly am I dropping you off."

I began to wonder if Sam was kidding about this girl being nice.

When she wasn't urging me to walk faster or mumbling to herself, Santana, as I'd learned, was particularly silent. She didn't have much to say to me and in recent months I hadn't had much to say to anybody. I sort of lied that she didn't make me speak. She wasn't asking me how I was feeling or forcing me to talk about anything. I couldn't explain why I was so dissapinted when we reached the buolding. Onced Shelby buzzed me in she'd turned on her heel, ready to take off, but I stopped her.

"Would you like to come up?" I asked, from the doorway.

"No thanks," she took another step.

"Please, you helped me and," I worried my lip before thinking back to her parting words to Sam, "Maybe you could stay for dinner."

She stopped once more.

"Do you really mind take out?" I wondered as she turned back and passed me on her way through the door.

I hadn't actually meant for Santana to see Shelby's display of panic. The woman pulled me into her arms, eyes tight with relief as she spewed her words of worry. The guilt that I should have felt earlier flooded me as I explained how I'd gotten lost and lied about the life of my phone's battery. It took a moment for Shelby to calm down enough to notice Santana. I told her that Santana had been the one to help me home and she insisted she stay for dinner as well. Shelby ordered pizza and salad for us and we settled onto the couch. Santana was still silent, staring blankly at the television although she hardly seemed interested in the little girls dancing on screen while their dance instructuor yelled mercilessly st them. She was tense while she ate one slice of pizza at a time although she didn't reject the seconds and thirds Shelby offered. She was vague when she answered Shelby's questions. She was fifteen like me, lived in the area, and her parents probably wouldn't be worried about her being out so late.

When we finished eating she followed me to my room, sitting on the desk chair Shelby had once used in here. The bed was still made with the simple gray sheets Shelby had only meant for guests when I'd gotten here. I watched as Santana took in the room silently, her eyes flitting over the perfectly made bed, the bare walls, the suitcase in the corner, and the few trinkets littering the desk and nightstands. I tried to figure out what she was thinkingbut she maintained an absolutely perfect pokerface, eyebrows knit in concentration, dark eyes locked on the object of her attention, and lips pursed intensely. This was especially true as she stood up, passing me to grab a picture frame from my nightstand. She examined it carefully, taking in the two men hugging a now unfamiliar girl. Any excuses about the state of the room died on my lips.

"You aren't happy here," It wasn't a question.

I had no real response.

"She's not the worst," she went on, putting the frame down and tirning to me, "I mean, I've seen worse foster parents."

"She's, um," I bit my cheek, "Not my foster mother."

A black eyebrow lifted curiousy at that.

"She's my biological mother," I began to explain.

She nodded understandingly. "Still," she began, "It's not the same."

So much for her not making me talk about it, but for some reason I didn't mind speaking to her. It wasn't like she was some shrink who'd only spoken to kids who'd gone through the same thing or Shelby pretending she understood, it was like she actually did. Then it clicked. "Are you..." I let it trail off.

Her answer was indirrect, "I can't say you'd be happy," she looked back to the picrure, "Not like that, but we'd understand," she moved to the winow and opened it, "I understand."

I didn't, until she sat on the frame. My heart lept a bit, "What?"

"I also can't say it wouldn't suck at times," that was the first time I saw that dark smirk, promising everything and anything from mischief to danger, "But I won't say it hasn't been worth it to me."

"What?" I repeated, watching as she pulled her leg up onto the window frame. "I couldn't just leave, that wouln't be..." I didn't know what.

"I've been here," she sighed, and then looked around before correcting, "No, not here, I've been to worse places, but it might not be too different." She slipped her leg through the window entirely, "Good luck."

"Wait," I requested.

She did, watching me with the same intensity she had the picture.

"I can't go with you," I started and if I'd even looked away for another second I wouldn't have seen the twinge of her eyebrows, "But will you come back?"

The request seemed to surprise her as her face relaxed, intensity easing to understanding. Apparently not answering questions was a habit of hers as she just smirked, preparing to slip onto the fireescape.

"Can you at least use the door?" I tried, grabbing her shoulder gently, "I don't want to explain your disappearing act to Shelby."

She nodded and came back in, letting me lead her to the door.

"Santana, you really should come around more often," Shelby said as Santana prepared to leave.

She only nodded and waved before taking her leave.

}{

I'd been with Shelby since spring but the hot breezes of summer blew stronger with everyday that passed. She gave me a room and swore that anytime I wanted to she'd be glad to take me shopping, buy me clothes and things for my room, but I never wanted to. Every day I woke to the smell of fresh coffee, probably the only thing Shelby knew how to make, and bagels from the deli up the street. It took her a while, but she'd weaned herself of the habit to buy me donuts as if I were a child. Every night at dinner she'd try to talk to me, asking about my interests, my old school, my life. I found myself droning simple answers, shadows of the long-winded speeches I'd have once replied with. I hated my tiny room, in the little apartment, with the woman that continued to try so hard. In fact, that was the only reason I couldn't hate her as well.

After the night with Santana, it became easier not to hate everything so much. Every so often I'd catch glimpses of a familiar face in the mirror. I offered to clean the dishes more often than silently taking over the duty. Rather than locking myself in my bedroom I'd actually sit with Shelby, watching television with her, surprised to learn of the collection of DVDs I could have only dreamt of as a child. I really did let Shelby take me to the store, finally noticing that she was more than just the woman trying to take my fathers' places. When she questioned Santana's absence though,I didn't have much to answer with either.

I was watching Shelby finish her crossword, dipping the pieces of my bagel into my coffee as I'd seen her do when the buzzer went off.

We looked curiously between each other. Shelby hadn't proven herself to be the social type and the social worker usually called before making an appearance.

"I'll see who it is," she offered, folding her paper once more before going.

I couldn't make out the entire conversation before Shelby was coming back to the kitchenette counter. "Who was it?"

"Your friend," she smiled, "She's coming up. You might want to get dressed."

I looked down to my striped pajama set before blushing and getting up. I headed to my room quickly to change. A clean white shirt fit perfectly beneath a gray argyle vest with navy blue and purple designs. A mauve skirt, black knee socks, and matching Mary Janes pulled the outfit together. I couldn't help but fuss over my hair; brushing it out and wondering about another style, maybe bangs, before just restraining it with a headband. I turned and went to the door, hoping to greet Santana before brushing my teeth only to be greeted by her standing just outside my door with her hand poised to knock.

"Santana," I beamed, my cheeks almost aching from the almost forgotten motion.

"Rachel," she piqued her eyebrow, stepping back to look me over amused.

"What are you doing here so early?" I wondered.

"Glad to know I'm so welcome," she smirked.

"That's not-"

She held up her hand, "I'm not busy today."

"It's summer," I tilted my head curiously, "Do you have a job?"

"A few," she shrugged. "Is that really what you're wearing?"

I looked down to my outfit and smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles with my hands, "What's wrong with this?"

"Nothing," she scoffed, "Aside from looking like Pedo-Bait Barbie, it's just not very versatile."

I huffed at that and crossed my arms, "And I suppose I should dress more like you," I took in her faded jeans with multiple rips and the same leather jacket; she obviously had on a men's undershirt beneath it.

"Yeah, actually," she smirked, and I couldn't fight a blush. "Are you ready to go or what?"

"Hold on," I moved past her to the bathroom, brushing my teeth and washing my face quickly. My regimen was typically more detailed but I didn't want to keep Santana waiting.

Shelby smiled brightly as we left, assuring I didn't have to rush home as long as my phone had plenty of battery. I wasn't entirely sure what I was expecting as I followed Santana onto the street. Her first stop was the library, Sam and another boy, tall and lanky with dark hair, were playing on some computers. Sam gave me one of those bright smiles and offered a hug, although I suppose the other boy was beating him at some sort of game because he cursed before his attention went back to it. The other boy, Mike, greeted me as well. Still, Santana led me farther into the library. We were deep into it, only spotting a few people every so often when we sat at a small table, sharing with a girl with bright pink hair, her head bowed over a book as she read. The girl didn't seem to notice us too quickly.

"Q," Santana teased, tugging on a blonde lock that hadn't gotten as much attention.

The girl didn't move.

"Quinn," Santana tugged harder.

Still no answer.

Finally, Santana reached out and pulled the book away entirely when almost crazed hazel eyes flitted up, "Hey, what the hell are you doing?"

"Wondering who reads in the library," Santana scoffed, lifting the book to read the title.

Quinn rolled her eyes and reached for the book, "And how many times have I found you with your nose in some dusty book."

"Not often," Santana nods, passing the book back, "I'm better at hiding."

She was going to say something when Quinn finally noticed me, "Hi?"

"New meat," Santana shrugged.

"I am not," I assured the other girl, "I'm Rachel Berry."

"Quinn Fabray," the girl held her hand out.

I looked at them, Quinn gauging me curiously with less crazed eyes than I'd originally assumed. No, her eyes were just distracted, ideas filling her head and possibilities and eventually they landed back on her book. Santana seemed to have already summed me up, her eyes held less of the intensity they had before as she focused on me but they did seem to be waiting for something.

"Is this," I began, growing anxious as a thought dawned on me, "A gang?"

The room fell dead silent at that question. Their eyes stayed locked on me and I felt my cheeks burn. I almost began to wonder if I should be nervous when their voices both filled the library. They were laughing almost hysterically. I'm sure if someone had been close enough they would have shushed them but their laughter went unchecked.

"That was hardly that funny," I glared at them, crossing my arms. "Excuse me for worrying that your odd behavior and the enigmatic answers to even the simplest of questions might suggest that you involve yourself in any kind of unlawful activities. You and your friends could be criminals for all I know and all that you share at any moment."

Their laughter was more subtle now but it kept up. Santana nodded as she finally caught her breath, "I'll explain."

I kept up my scowl.

"It's not a gang, it's-" Quinn began but Santana stopped her, sobering quickly.

"No," she shook her head, "I offered to let her come, she didn't want to. I'll explain, but in my own time."

"That's not fair," I whined.

"It is," Quinn shrugged, closing her book, "She doesn't have to tell you anything. Frankly, Santana doesn't do this often. She has enough on her plate, and if she was willing to take you in, with everything and everyone else she has to worry about, she must see something in you."

I let my eyes dart to the raven-haired girl watching the exchange. Another heavy silence fell but I doubted this one would be followed by more laughter. The concentration was back in Santana's eyes.

I barely nodded when the boys were jogging up, each with a couple of comic books in hand.

Santana was distracted as they both held them out in front of her, pouting as she leveled them both with a look of her own.

"They're like fifty-cents," Mike assured.

"Because they're ratty and old," Quinn commented.

"Classics," Sam corrected, "They're classics."

Santana rolled her eyes wearily, "Whatever, fine, but no lemon juice." She looked at Sam pointedly, and then to Mike, "And no batteries."

I was confused at their sudden indecision; finally, the boys looked between each other and nodded, "Alright."

I looked to Quinn curiously. "Lemon juice for Sam's hair and batteries for Mike's boom box."

"Oh," I nodded.

They both ran off ahead, I assume to pay for the books.

"Come on," Santana stood up, "I'll figure something out for lunch. You coming, Q?"

The girl nodded before slipping her book under her arm, "I'm just going to go check this out." She followed the boys.

Santana nodded and slipped her hands into her pockets, starting the trek back the way we came.

I fell into step beside her, "Do you ever take that thing off?"

She shrugged and looked down at the jacket, "Yes."

"It's summer, now might be a good time," I suggested.

"Might," she nodded.

By the time we got outside the boys were sitting on the stairs reading while Quinn watched, occasionally mussing one or both of their hair. When Santana came out they finished and marked their pages. They fell wordlessly behind her and I noticed how the three seemed to follow her while I stayed by her side. I could hear them talking about what I assumed was a job of theirs. Santana seemed pretty relaxed with her friends so nearby. I wondered exactly what her plan was for lunch.

"What do you eat?" She questioned, "Aside from take out."

"Well, I'm vegan so-" I was cut off by a chorus of sounds of disgust.

"We don't all get the luxury of being so picky," she snickered, and I was going to go into another rant when she went on, "But I guess for today we can make an exception."

Sam and Mike groaned but didn't voice any actual complaints as we reached the marketplace.

We all picked out some things and although she hesitated, Santana wouldn't let me pay.

We sat on the curb as she divided up the food meticulously.

I popped a few grapes into my mouth. Santana hadn't even touched any of hers yet when I noticed she'd had less than anybody else. She picked up and orange and began peeling it.

"So, when are you going to tell me what all of this is?" I wondered, before eating another grape.

She pulled the orange slice into her mouth before nodding. I watched her swallow it whole before whipping away a bit of juice, "This is, not a gang."

"I've gathered that," I slipped some of my grapes onto her lap.

She nodded, looking at the grapes curiously before plucking one from the small bunch, "We just are. There's not really much of a label that fits it."

I looked over the two boys trying to juggle their fruit while Quinn stole their grapes. Santana's eyes were directed the same way.

"Maybe family," she shrugged.

"So you're all just…"

"Orphans?" She supplies. "More or less, we are."

"We make it work though," Sam noted.

"San mostly keeps us together," Mike explained.

"I couldn't even begin to imagine how half of this would work without her," Quinn groaned.

Santana only shrugged, finishing her orange.

We continued on with the day that way. Sam, Quinn, and Mike, left us throughout the day. We left Quinn at the library again. Mike ran off at the park. Sam hung around until he absolutely had to leave and headed to some small restaurant. Once it was just Santana and me, we just wandered around the city a bit more. I texted Shelby that I was fine. I assumed the day was coming to an end when Santana finally urged me into a dark alley. My anxiety returned as I followed her. She had to stop to keep reassuring me that this wouldn't end in my death or arrest. That didn't stop my concern as we climbed the downed fire-escape. I wasn't thrilled about entering the dark window but I followed, gripping her hand as she told me. I couldn't see anything inside, but it was almost like she could with the skill she used to navigate the darkened halls. We went up two whole floors before I had any idea why we were here.

Something on the couch moved. I couldn't help a small shriek as the shadowed figure faced us. Another couple of figures came out, carrying lights. I was probably cutting off the circulation in Santana's hand and bruising her arm as tightly as I clutched her. Once again, I was surrounded by laughter. Sam held up a flashlight as he urged me to calm down. Mike held a glow in the dark toy up. Santana was holding up a lighter, flashing it before the first figure, what had apparently been an overweight cat. Lord Tubbington was apparently another regular here. The last child to make herself known was a little girl, Alice. She was excitable and all but begged Santana to play with her, and I was shocked to see how willing she was, even as she dragged me along too. The girl seemed to have mixed feelings about me, but otherwise she was glad to share her few toys with me as she rambled on about her brother.

I was sitting on a sagging couch, watching Sam and Quinn playing cards and Santana looking over the little girl as she read a book by the light of a glow in the dark toy like Mike's. It was hot, although it improved when everyone opened doors and windows. The dark unnerved me, the angry looking cat prowling around every so often. Even the actual building made me nervous; it had an almost haunted and desolate feel to it, but to them it was home. The couch was worn from bodies slumping onto it constantly, the floors were covered in footprints and some doors worked while others didn't. I could feel myself growing comfortable.

"Stay," Santana finally said. I hadn't realized she'd been watching me until I met her shady eyes.

"I couldn't," I sighed.

She pursed her lips, "It's not so bad."

"It really isn't," I smile at the little girl engrossed in her book, "I couldn't just leave Shelby like that."

"But you aren't happy there," she reminded.

"It's getting better," I correct.

She nods silently. "Stay the night."

Even before everything, I wasn't the most popular of kids. I'd never been the first on anybody's list to invite to a sleep over, and I suppose this wasn't exactly the same, but I was still nervous.

"I know it's not much, but you can still technically shower," she jested, genuinely smiling for a moment.

"I should call Shelby," I pointed out.

She nodded and got up, disappearing into a room off to the side. By the time I was finished she dropped some clothes onto my lap. Mike brought everyone a can of some food. Santana ate a can of tuna while I got a can of peaches. After that, he disappeared and she explained he was turning the water on. She led me to the second floor, still not using a light. Everyone took to their own restrooms but she stayed with me, turning on the shower. She turned her back and let bathe while she did her best to scrub my underclothes in the sink. I was embarrassed at the thought but any worry vanished as I felt the cold water. I hurried to clean myself before letting her do the same. She gave me a new toothbrush and some toothpaste. Apparently, those were the easiest to steal but I tried not to dwell on that thought. Finally, we were heading back up the stairs and into the same side room.

The room turned out to be master bedroom, a queen mattress lying on the floor in the corner. A couch on the side caught my attention. At the foot of the bed was a large trunk. In her shorts and sports bra, Santana fell onto the bed. She dropped her clothes onto the trunk before excavating her lighter. She lit it up and for the first time I really saw her frame. Beneath the thick coat she looked famished. Her ribs peeked from below her skin and her arms managed to look toned without seeming fragile. She wasn't much taller than me but her attitude hid the fact. Without her coat she looked frail. She noticed me looking and closed the lighter top, dismissing the flame.

"It's not exactly glamorous," she sighed, scooting to the farthest edge of the bed.

"Some people would say otherwise," I mumbled, moving to sit on the other edge of the bed, her oversized shirt almost drowning me.

She chuckled before slumping back onto the mattress, a flattened pillow beneath her head.

"How," I start, uncertainty filling my voice as her laughter dissipates, "How did you all end up here? Like this?"

The room fell silent. The only sounds were our breathing. I almost thought she'd fallen asleep when she answered, "Everyone has their stories, they're not mine to tell. You'll have to ask?"

"What's yours?" I wondered as I rolled onto my side facing her.

The only response I got was another silent chuckle.

Santana Lopez was an orphan. She lived in an abandoned building with other orphans. She took care of them, and made sure the sad little building was more of a home than any foster home could ever be. She'd invited me to join them and I'd turned her down. Still, the raven-haired girl with the dark intense eyes came back, even when I wouldn't leave, she wanted me to stay. She'd let me join her lost boys, even if New York was nothing like the Neverland of storybooks.


End file.
